


The Dog is Always Prone to Fetch

by assbutts_ahoy



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Happy Ending, Revenge, happier ending at least, young conner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbutts_ahoy/pseuds/assbutts_ahoy
Summary: Shay Cormac has just finished tying up some loose ends in the Frontier when he stumbles upon a native boy hungry for revenge and spitting a name he knows too well. The boy is without home or family, so what does Captain Cormac do? Well, of course, he just has to bring the lad back home with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly love my son Shay Cormac with all my heart. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this mess of a prompt. It was a nice indulgence.

        The summer weather was a difference Shay Cormac was not as accustomed as he could have been. The humidity in the thick forest was something he had not experienced for many years, not that he particularly enjoyed the scorching sun when he was living on the homestead. Shay had always found the cold more tolerable than any degree of summer heat. He wipes the sweat from his brow as he leads his horse through the dense underbrush. He was a sea captain - not a frontiersman, Shay thought bitterly. He had no business meddling around in these woods, but a job is a job, and he had little choice against the what he was given in between leads on artifacts.   
  
        As clumsy as he was being out of his element, the assassination he was assigned went rather smoothly. Shay had caught the scoundrel dozing by his smoking campfire in the early morning hours. The traitor, no doubtfully exhausted from being constantly on the run, didn't even hear the approaching danger before a blade was upon his throat. At the very least, Shay thought, the chase the enemy put on barely fell short of a day trip. Shay almost felt pitiful for how easy it was to catch and kill the rat. He might as well enjoy the countryside in all it's glory before he was put back on his ship for who knows how long. After all, it's not like the Grandmaster would just shoo him off to go frolic in the forest when there are the mundane tasks to uphold. Shay almost physically cringed at the thought of the paperwork he'll be given upon his return.  
  
        Shay adjusted the reins as he struggled to shed the lighter of his leather coats. Nearly losing his balance in the saddle, he shrugged the jacket and holster for his air rifle off his back. Sometimes he wondered to himself if he had such exceptional balance in every other aspect of his life, why couldn't he hold his own on a horse? Sighing, he placed both items across the saddle in front of him and stretched his arms outward, feeling the gentle breeze against the thin fabric of his shirt. It was going to be a long ride back to the bustling streets of the city.   
          
        Shay stopped not shortly after, dismounting from his horse to stretch his legs and have a bite to eat. The mare drifted from the pathway where he sat, trying to find a decent spot to graze. Shay picked at the bread he thoughtlessly threw into his pack before departing, wishing he had brought something with more taste. Not that the bread was bad, but after a couple meals consisting of nothing _but_ bread, he was frankly becoming quite sick of it.  
  
         His horse's head shot up from the shrubbery, stopping Shay mid-bite. He listened, but there was no noise. Nothing except the distant chirp of birds and the life of the forest. Yet there was still a clawing at the back of his mind. Something was there, close to them, approaching them. His horse took a step backward but remained indifferent to the presence drawing closer to them. Shay was about to reach for the knife at his belt when a boy emerged from the foliage, still unaware of the older man. His hand hovered by his waist, unsure if there was anyone with the child, and if they were any threat to him.   
  
"Hello?" he softly called out to the child.   
  
The boy jumped, now aware of Shay and where he casually sat on the ground with his pack.   
  
"It's alright, I mean no harm." he told the boy, calmly raising his hands.  
  
        The boy was from one of the native tribes in the region, but he didn't recall any of their camps being this close to New York. Shay nibbled on the tasteless piece of bread, waiting for the child's reaction. The boy was frozen, still trying to decide on whether to run or speak. His eyes darted to the bread in Shay's hand, reminding the younger on what little food he has had in the past few days. Shay noticed this, and broke off a decent chunk, holding it out in the boy's direction. His small hand hesitantly reached out to meet Shay's, ready to dart if any danger arose from the man.   
  
"What are you doing all the way out here?" Shay asked, then realized a more important question. "Do you speak English?"  
  
The boy sat down a comfortable distance across from him and looked at his bread, a scowl on his face. "I am looking for Charles Lee."  
  
        Shay was dumbfounded. He swallowed his bite hard, mind searching for something to say next. This young boy was on a mission for the Order's official. His features were stern and guarded. This boy, barely a man, had travel quite the distance in search of Lee, and it was clear he had no intention of stopping until he found his man.  
  
"He burned down my village." The boy looked up from his bread, studying the man as he chewed. His head tilted down again, his voice cracking. "I watched my mother _burn_."  
  
        The boy's hands started to shake and anger twisted itself into his features. Shay's jaw tightened so much he swore he would crack a tooth. Shay stood, throwing the rest of his bread slice far into the woods. He paced angrily over to his the mare, fastening his pack onto the saddle, and rearranging his belongings that hung off. He mounted quickly and lead his horse around to face the boy still sitting on the ground.   
  
"Are you coming?" Shay asked hastily, his anger giving him a push of adrenaline.   
  
The boy stood, taking a step away from the man and his horse. He eyed Shay suspiciously, ready to take off running if needed.   
  
Shay sighed impatiently. He took a moment to calm his features, taking a breath before addressing the boy again. "Do you want to find Charles Lee or not?"   
  
        That incentive changed the boy's stance as his stare locked eyes with his own. Shay held a hand down, waiting for an answer. The boy said nothing but took his hand, and Shay heaved the boy onto the saddle in front of him. He gripped the reins harshly, the boy seated between his arms.   
  
"You better hold on tight, lad." he warned, before abruptly spurring the mare into a run.

        They rode a few good hours before New York was on the horizon. Shay's anger had withdrawn for the time being, but to say he had calmed down would be far from the truth. Seeing the cityscape in the distance, Shay urged his horse back into a run. The small boy gave a small shout of surprise, grasping Shay's left arm to try and steady himself. The boy's mannerisms briefly reminded him of Achilles' child, Conner, when Shay dragged the lad out on horseback for some fresh air every other summer day. The older man continued with familiarity as the boy squirmed to try and keep his balance, despite being safely secured between Shay's arms.   
  
        As the hoofbeats went from muffled to clattering on the cobblestone, the boy clutched just a little tighter to Shay's forearm. The pair of them were cursed at enough to last a lifetime as Shay steered his mare through the side streets of New York. He knew he was pushing the poor mare to her limits, but Fort Arsenal sat in the distance, and the lust for Charles' blood had never felt so strong. Shay would not feel at all bad for sinking a blade into that blasted man's neck. Or maybe he'll go for the chest and watch him choke on his own blood. Shay entertained these dark thoughts all the way up to the mansion that resided on the cliff side.   
  
        As they approached the gates, the young boy's entire demeanor shifted. He posture stiffened, and he gripped the saddle with white knuckles. The guards posted outside didn't give them a second glance as the pair flew past them to come to a halt in the courtyard. Shay's burning anger returned as he flung himself out of the saddle to storm off towards the mansion. He would have forgotten the boy if he wasn't keeping up at Shay's side, with enough anger to rival his own.   
  
        The door clattered against the frame as Shay slammed it shut with enough force to knock it off its hinges. The shock made it's way up to rattle the brass chandelier as the two crossed the foyer and rounded the corner to the corridor. Shay fully collided with someone, nearly knocking the collection of books out of their grasp. Without the slightest apology, he shoved past them and continued with a heavy, determined pace. He pushed open Charles' door, peering around the room, only to find it empty. Shay turned back towards the foyer, once again slamming the door shut. He spotted the Grandmaster standing at the end of the hall, holding an armful of books and wearing a look of annoyance on his face.  
  
"Care to explain yourself, Master Cormac?"  his voice taut as he asked his approaching colleague.   
  
        Shay blatantly ignored him and passed the man, continuing to the library on the right side of the foyer. Haytham let out an audible sigh at this behavior and turned to follow the man with his gaze. He watched Shay and the young boy vanish into the library, only to reappear a moment later. If it wasn't already abundantly clear, Shay was absolutely furious.  
  
"So are you going to tell me what the bloody hell is going on, or not, Master Cormac?"   
  
"Where's Lee?" Shay growled, marching back towards Haytham.  
  
        As much as this should have come as a surprise, this behavior was nothing new to the Grandmaster. The older man lifted an eyebrow and took a moment to observe the two stood before him. Shay's left hand was tightly clenched around the hilt of his sword, with knuckles no doubt snow white under his old leather gloves. He glared at Haytham with a look the man had not seen since they sailed North after Achilles and Liam. He then looked towards the young native boy that followed Shay in like some lost pup. The boy held his gaze with a strong determination, holding his head higher as their eyes locked. There was something in the boy's dark brown eyes that grabbed for him, but he pushed the feeling aside for the moment, letting out a tired sigh.  
  
"What has the man done this time?"   
  
        As Shay went to reply, they were interrupted by the front door opening to reveal William Johnson and the man himself, Charles Lee. There was absolute silence as everyone present processed the scene. Shay spun around to take a step towards the two newcomers, but the young boy was faster. He grabbed for the short sword at Shay's hip, unsheathing it as he ran passed the man, and quickly moving to adjust the blade in his hand. Johnson had stepped out of the way in the nick of time, only to reveal an unprepared Lee, oblivious to the blade coming straight towards him. There were multiple shouts as the blade found it's mark in Charles' abdomen, forcing the man to stagger backward, clutching for the hilt. The boy held the blade in place, twisting it as we locked eyes with a confused Charles. William grabbed for him immediately, pulling both boy and blade from Charles and shoving him violently to the side. With the blade removed, Lee was pressed up against the door frame clutching the wound in his stomach. The short sword was knocked out of the boy's hand and it spun across the tiled floor, back towards its owner.  
  
"What in heavens name just happened?!" Haytham bellowed, turning sharply to stare down Shay.  
  
"That blasted piss pot burned down this poor lad's village!" he shot back, "Killed what's left of his family, leavin' him with nothin' but the clothes on his back!" Charles sputtered, sliding down the frame and leaving a trail of blood down to the floor.  
  
"That's hardly an excuse! He's an important asset to us! His contacts are what give us the power to continue our search!"  
  
"Well, you have Charles and his lot here to thank for their work negotiating with the tribe. I wonder how our presence sits with them now because I sure don't want to be the one to find out!"  
  
"Surely it can't have been that bad." Haytham's features would have been comical if this was any other situation, but the man was absolutely flabbergasted to the events that just unfolded around him. A lone child managed to attack their powerful syndicate with more force than the Assassins had ever managed to during his time in the colonies, and his actions were fueled by personal intent!  
  
"You want to go count the innocent lives lost because of the gall of one crazed man?"  
  
        The Grandmaster was rendered near speechless, turning to his other colleague, hoping to get any sort of assistance from the man. William looked back at him with regret. "They wanted us gone from the area. We didn't want to lose ground, we had to do something." Haytham's eyes widened at the response as William continued. "It wasn't meant to be so damaging, I swear! The fire, it-it just got out of control too quickly."   
  
"You of all people should have had your head atop your neck, for Christ's sake! Jonson, you were entrusted to have a positive relationship with the tribes, and then you go out and attack their community!" Haytham dragged a heavy hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes in this new information. He gestures over to where Charles' lied, convulsing on the tile floor. "Just...put him out of his misery and get him out of here."  
  
"What about the boy?"  
  
"Let him go, it seems as though he's fulfilled his desire for revenge. And after you're done disposing of the body, I want you to ride out and try to find any survivors of that tribe and do your best to apologize. Agree to any of their requests - we need to have access to the precursor site. I don't want to see you again until you've cleaned the mess Charles and you have created!"  
  
        Johnson said nothing as he let go of the struggling boy, and walked over to drag Charles through the still open door. The native scrambled back to his feet and stood by Shay's side, picking up the bloodied short sword lying between them. The large door clicked closed quietly, leaving the remaining three in a heavy silence. Haytham drew in a deep breath The sound of a gun being fired let off in the distance, slightly startling the boy. With his books still bundled in his arms, Haytham continued to on towards the library.  
  
"Get the blood cleaned out of the tiles before it stains." He ordered over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room.   
  
        He kicked the door closed, wandering over to the table in the back corner. He dropped the books onto the surface, fishing through the pile for his log book. After finding it, he slid it over and walked to one of the cabinets against the wall, reaching inside the partially open door and taking hold of a full bottle of brandy. Haytham then trudged back, falling into the chair and kicking off his boots before throwing his feet up on the table top. Leaning back, he thrust out his hidden blade to uncork the liquor bottle and took a long drink of the strong alcohol. He sighed deeply, trying to figure out how to fix today's mess. He took another large swig before reaching over to open the log book.

 

* * *

 

 

       Haytham didn't emerge from the library until late into the evening. His books were left wide open all across the table and the candles still smoking from just being blown out as he pulled open the door into the foyer. As expected, the area was dark. The man was too tired and drunk to realize that the blood had been wiped clean from the doorway as he staggered across the entrance, going to turn down the corridor to where his temporary room was. Before he fully disappeared, a faint light down the opposite hallway caught his attention. He straightened slightly and made his way down towards the small flicker. Whispers echoed out of the open doorway he was approaching, and he slowly peered into the dimly lit room.  
  
"...and he threw me off, taking the helm and turning her directly into the side of the damned brig. Before he knew it he was slammed straight into the railing and sent half my crew 'cross the deck." Shay's voice murmured.   
  
        Haytham watched Shay's hands work as he told the story of how Haytham almost sunk the _Morrigan_ trying to stop a runaway brig by ramming it head on. There were scrap pieces of paper on the table between Shay and the native boy, crude sketches of ships and masts with some small handwriting beside the pictures. The boy was wrapped in Shay's blanket holding a steaming mug, the candlelight dancing off his features.    
  
"Don't make a habit of discussing my lesser moments to our acquaintances." Haytham said, stepping into the light of the room.   
  
Shay smirked at him, "Well that's one of the better stories I have on you. 'Least I didn't tell the one about the time the pair of us sailed out to Pearl Island." Haytham nearly groaned at the mere mention of the name. If ever there was an embarrassing story to tell, that one would take the top.  
  
"The lad and I were just passing the time, poor pup was having a little trouble getting to sleep, so I thought we'd spend the time chatting about our grand adventures."   
  
"If we're telling stories," Haytham stared as pulled up a stool to sit across from the two. "Then what about when you tried to swing off the deck onto a tree branch in River Valley?"   
  
The two shared a chuckle at the memory before Haytham continued, addressing the boy. "Forgive me, I never asked your name."  
  
"Ratonhnhakè:ton."  
  
Haytham blinks a couple times, "Pardon?"  
  
"Ra-doon-ha-ge-doom." he repeats, slower.  
  
"Ray-dom-" Haytham frowns, fumbling with pronunciation.  
  
"Or Conner, for an English name." Shay supplied. "We discussed some possible names earlier, and that fit the best."  
  
The boy nods slightly. "It will be necessary for most men. After all, he- "nodding to Haytham, "is not even drunk yet and he still cannot say my name." Shay laughs heartily at the remark, earning a look from the Grandmaster. "Oh, come now, the lad's quick. Even you have to admit that."  
  
"So," Haytham begins slowly after a short moment of silence, "do you have any family left to go to?"  
  
Ratonhnhakè:ton shakes his head, taking a sip from the mug. "Only my father, but I have never met him before. He is like you." he says, gesturing to Shay's skin, "My mother told me that he went back to England."  
  
"What was your mum's name?" Shay asks, familiar with some of the tribes in the area.  
  
"Kaniehtí:io"  
  
        The two older men were both frozen, Shay was aware of the woman the Grandmaster was enamored with for a period of time. He even met her briefly and knowing who the lad's parents were now, Shay could easily see the features he bore had traces of both of them. Haytham, on the other hand, had sobered up considerably at the very name. Several different feelings washed over him at once, surprise, confusion, fear, anger, sadness. The most prominent feeling, though, was regret. Regret for not being able to be there for Ziio, for his son - for letting the massacre happen in the first place. If it was not for him setting the task on Charles' shoulders in these desperate times, she would still be alive, and perhaps he would not have to meet his own son on such terms.  
  
"Haytham, you sly old fox."  
  
        Haytham stared at Shay, mostly in disbelief. For a brief moment, a small part of him wanted this child to truly be his, but his stubbornness overcame him. "That's impossible."  
  
"Come now, look at his nose. That's Kenway without a doubt."  
  
Haytham looked back towards his alleged son. Ratonhnhakè:ton returned his gaze with calm features.   
  
"I'm telling you there is no doubt in my mind that his lad here is your's."   
  
        Haytham studied the features in the dim light. He saw Ziio in his eyes. Sitting on the other side of their meager fire that they started in the late evening. He remembers that night well, and how they sat and asked each other questions until the fire was nothing but whispering coals. He remembers distinctly about trying to explain the importance of the currency exchange to her, only for her to laugh and have a compelling argument to why it was _un_ necessary. She told him about different plant uses and tried to teach him certain words, only for him to helplessly give up trying to pronounce the sounds. Haytham saw her in almost every aspect of Conner, but he had to hand it to Shay, the boy does have the Kenway nose.  
  
        He sighed, trying to find words to say. He wanted to apologize for not being in the boy's life, but not all of that was his fault. And he wasn't the type to bring the boy under his arm and rustle his hair exclaiming ' _welcome to the family'_. He drew his eyes from where they had wandered to meet Conner's eyes again. "It is true, then. I can see your mother in you." Ratonhnhakè:ton returned the nod, taking another swill from his steaming mug.  
  
"A marvelous woman, your mum was." Shay added. "Had more brawn than most of my sailors. And far smarter than the likes of any of them."  
  
Haytham nodded in agreement, still silent, and Shay figured it would be best to take control of the situation for the time being. "So, lad, I believe I'm speaking for the both of us when I say you're welcome to stay here. I've got more space than I know what to do with in this house."  
  
"I would appreciate that greatly." Shay's grin is wide at the reply, and as he glances over to Haytham he can see a certain spark in the older man's eyes.  
  
"I'll get a room ready for you first thing in the morn'! And I'll just have to introduce you to Chris Gist. He's got a passion for hunting and traveling, but I'll warn you he'll chew your damned ear off with all sorts of tales." Ratonhnhakè:ton smiled fondly at the genuine excitement from Shay, and passed that same smile onto his father, who looked back at him with the hint of a tired grin touching the corners of his lips.


End file.
